Compromise
by Segmented Aura
Summary: - "It was a dark and stormy night. At least, that was the way Machi would've described it, had she chosen to write a book about her life beginning right at that moment…she never had been much for story-telling." Machi x Yuki, R&R ! :D
1. Chapter 1

Hey, everybody, Amy here. =D I uploaded the first chapter of this story quiiiiiiiiiiiiite a while ago. . BUT! Now I'm back with a second chapter, and this chapter, the first chapter, has been mostly rewritten, so even if you happened to have read this before, you really should reread this now. =) Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: Don't own.**

It was a dark and stormy night.

At least, that was the way Machi would've described it, had she chosen to write a book about her life beginning right at that moment…she never had been much for story-telling.

The treasurer shivered, more out of unease than cold, as she say huddled under the blankets in the middle of her bed. She could never fall asleep on nights like this. Storms had always terrified her, ever since she was a little girl – and the fact that the incident with her younger brother had happened on such a night had only served to exacerbate the problem.

Another boom of thunder, sounding eerily close than the last, and Machi nearly jumped out of her skin, wrapping the covers around herself more securely. Every muscle in her body was tensed, eyes screwed shut already in anticipation of the next thunderclap.

These were the times that the negative aspects of living alone – though several were clear on a daily basis, all on their own – came sharply into play, more particularly the part about being _alone_. Company on nights like this (a pair of violet eyes flashed in and out of her mind) would have been more than welcome, even for the rather reclusive girl. There was none, of course, and many a time this still left behind an aching hole in her chest desperate to be filled. However, when considering the alternative of living with her mother, she managed to push those lonely thoughts to the back of her mind.

Noticing there'd been a surprising absence of thunder and lightning – though the rain continued to pour as powerfully as ever – Machi opened her eyes to stare blandly at the wall ahead of her in her brightly lit room. After several seconds more of silence, she slowly turned that gaze towards her unfortunately curtainless window. In the same instant, a particularly startling fork of lightning crackled its way across the sky, followed far too quickly for comfort by a pulse-pounding clap of thunder.

And then the power died.

Had she been any other girl, Machi might have screamed – but as it was, she instead inhaled sharply in a manner that sounded like more of a strangled gasp before falling off of her bed, a tangled mess of covers. She stayed there on the floor, heart beating a fierce tattoo as she futilely jerked her gaze around the dark room in an almost frenzied fashion, hoping against hope that the lights would suddenly flash back on. While she was hoping, her cell phone sprang to life seemingly out of nowhere, vibrating and ringing and making quite the fuss. The treasurer quite literally leapt to answer it, hands scrambling around on the floorboards in her search, nearly frantic. But once she had located the item, she simply stared at the flashing screen, taking in the name that spelled itself out in total silence. Then after another prolonged moment, she silenced it, dropping it into her lap with a sigh.

_Manabe…_

She didn't have any idea who _else_ could possibly have been calling, really. The treasurer knew her brother meant well and was most likely calling to check in on her, being well aware of her phobia, but at that moment she could think of no one she wanted to speak with less. He tried, Machi knew that, but in the end never ended up making things any better – and she didn't want to have to deal with any attempted discussion about her state of being.

But, then….there _was_ someone else, with whom all the words seemed to come so much more easily…

The brunette picked up her phone as it alerted her to a new voice message, staring at it for another long moment or two after it had stopped beeping. And then, almost as if by clockwork, she began punching in a number: one she'd memorized so deeply it felt embedded in her mind, one she'd been given the month before although he'd never explained why, one she'd dialed countless times before but had always lacked the courage to complete by pressing that little green 'call' button.

Her finger was frozen over that button now, hovering millimeters in the air above, so close to touching it and putting the phone to her ear; she would listen to it ring, and then finally he would answer – but what if he didn't? At the thought, Machi's heart lost track of its beat. Her grip on the cell phone tightened. What if he looked at his caller ID, realized who was calling (it never occurred to her that she hadn't given him her number – nor was she aware that her brother had taken the liberty of doing it for her) and ignored it, because he didn't want to talk to her? He'd done so much already, but…what did she even expect him to say?

Again, the girl wavered; suddenly the cancel button seemed just as appealing an option. If she made the decision not to call - the same decision as her many previous attempts – she could merely set the phone down, crawl back into bed and cower under the covers until morning came – another thing she had done any number of times in the past. Never moving forward, stuck in the same constricting cycle, now self-imposed rather than demanded of her…

Machi took the plunge. The moment the other end of the line began to ring, however, her every doubt resurfaced in an instant; she considered hanging up, turning her phone off and simply forgetting about the incident altogether. Except it wasn't so simple. He was sure to notice she'd called; even if he didn't go to get it right away, he'd wonder why the caller had hung up so abruptly, and when he checked his history…

He'd try to call her back. Even if he didn't truly wish to speak with her, he'd call back to see what she'd wanted – for if not a prince, Yuki Sohma was most definitely a gentleman – and she'd be too mortified to answer. But if she didn't answer, he'd surely ask her at the next Council meeting, and then everyone would question –

There was no longer any choice; she'd sealed her fate. All that was left was to wait and see what happened. Gulping, Machi slowly lifted the phone to her ear, only barely able to listen over the banging of her heart. As the phone rang on, the treasurer felt a surge of hope. Maybe he _wouldn't_ answer. Maybe he was asleep – he had to be. Why wouldn't he be? So that meant the phone would just ring on. Or maybe it wasn't on at all. Maybe he had turned it off, and as soon as the answering machine kicked in, she could hang up and he wouldn't have any idea she'd called. Maybe –

Her hopes were dashed at the sudden, obvious cut into silence that signified the phone being picked up; breath catching in her throat, she knew almost immediately that she wouldn't be able to speak. She took in another gulp of air, the combination of both her own nerves at the current situation and the already present tension from the weather doubling her apprehension.

Several more anxiety-ridden seconds passed before the quiet breathing on the other end of the line actually developed into words; the voice that finally surfaced was scratchy and laced with sleep, but Machi recognized it immediately as Yuki's despite how unused to the tone she was.

"Hello…? Whozzis?" The treasurer would possibly have giggled at the way his speech, usually so refined, slurred together due to his half-roused state, if such an action was not so far removed from her nature – not to mention the fact that her voice was still lost.

"Hello?"

Her mouth worked, trying for several moments to form her thoughts aloud, but nothing would come out; she was caught, her mind a blank. More than anything, she was desperately wishing she had not been so foolish as to actually call, especially without a plan.

As the continued silence between the two of them stretched on, punctuated only by the continued crashes of thunder and lightning which caused Machi's breath to hitch without fail each and every time, her president eventually spoke again.

"Hangin' up…" came the mumble – and, contradictory to her previous thoughts, the girl could not move quickly enough to stop him. Her voice returned in a single, near panicked word.

"Wait." A pregnant pause followed the treasurer's sudden exclamation, and when Yuki did respond, he sounded much more alert – at least to Machi's ears.

"Machi? Machi, is that you?" His tone was filled with equal parts confusion and curiosity; this time, he seemed fully content to wait for her to come up with an answer.

"…it's me," was what she settled for at last, voice quiet, hesitant, guarded. A reply came about almost instantly.

"What is it, Machi? Is something wrong? Has something happened?" The treasurer felt a little overwhelmed by the sudden, urgent barrage of questions – or rather, the genuine concern that lay beneath them. _He's worried for me?_ Lurking behind this disbelief, however, was a self-deprecating thought.

_Of course he would think there was a problem. Why else would someone be calling at this time of night?_ Without warning, Machi was struck with embarrassment: embarrassment over her pathetic fear, embarrassment that she had even called him about it. After all, what could he do? It was the middle of the night. It was storming. It wasn't as if –

"I'm coming over."

And before she could quite register what the boy had said, he hung up. When it dawned on her seconds later what, exactly, he'd just told her, the phone slipped from her loose grip to drop onto the mercifully soft blanket; she barely noticed.

Eyes wide, the brunette could only sit there for the longest while, staring at nothing in particular while her heart performed rather impressive somersaults. He was coming over. _Now_. He was coming over _now._ With a sharp intake of air, she shot to her feet, taking a blanket along but leaving her cell phone to tumble the short distance onto the floor. Then she hurried out of her bedroom and into the living room, taking a seat on the couch; she felt flushed.

In spite of all her reservations, she wanted to see him. He gave her an indecipherable sort of feeling, but a pleasant one – one that left her warm, left her longing for his presence. She didn't know what to make of it; so, for the time being, it merely continued to inch along steadily, becoming more and more prominent.

She wanted to see him and didn't. The latter was due strongly to the fact that she was certain to make a complete and utter fool of herself. It had happened a number of times, most recently and significantly when she'd told him of her past. But…at the same time, that was a good memory, too… Those were things she'd never told anyone. And he'd accepted her nonetheless.

Still. Something about his presence always affected her, to the point that she wound up either flustered into snapping at him or flustered into saying embarrassing things…and that alone was enough to make her wish more fervently than ever that he simply _wouldn't show._

Eh? Eh? What'd you think? I think/hope it's improved… Review and let me know please! And onto the second chapter! Thaaaank yoooou!


	2. Chapter 2

…yeah so. There's no words to excuse a 3-year absence. . So I'll just say welcome, and if you happen to have read the first chapter of this before, welcome back! =D Hope this chapter is up to par, about half of it seriously was sitting here written all this time, and I've now rewritten it better and finished it, obviously.

**ALSO. IF YOU DID READ THIS BEFORE REREAD THE FIRST CHAPTER BEFORE THIS. IT HAS BEEN REWRITTEN. THANK YOOOOU**

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: Don't own.**

When the shrill, obnoxiously loud ring of his cell phone had pierced through Yuki's sleeping state (although it might be better termed catatonic), the first thing he'd felt was annoyance that he'd forgotten to turn the thing off before going to bed. Following was annoyance towards whoever was calling so late in the first place.

It wasn't until after he'd forced himself to reach a hand out from beneath warm covers, grope around on the nightstand until his fingers met slick plastic and pressed the offending device to his ear that he began to ponder just _who_ might be calling this late. And even then it wasn't until he'd identified the caller that true curiosity set in, as to _why_ she was calling at this time of night – or early morning, rather – and for that matter, why _he_ was the one she'd chosen to call.

This consideration was all it had taken to give him cause for concern. The first inkling of worry came when he tried to consider the possibilities of why _Machi_, of all people, would be calling _him_ of all people in the middle of the night. Or, given her personality, calling at all, really. It had only grown at the sound of her voice, small and afraid – very unlike the quiet but stubborn girl for whom his affection only kept increasing.

And so he had assumed the worst (although he wasn't quite sure what the worst was) when the silence between them after his inquiry towards her well-being had dragged on, far beyond the time it usually took her to respond. She still hadn't spoken when he'd made an on-the-fly decision to head over to her apartment and see for himself how she was doing – nor when he told her his intentions, or even when he hung up to follow through on the words.

Which was where he was now, walking down the dark street in a long slicker to protect against the weather. Ultimately, the garment had proven to be rather useless; the wind whipped it and the rain up and about him, causing him to become soaked to the skin anyways.

But it was only water. It would dry. After all, it wasn't as if he were _Kyou_. And Machi's safety was of far greater importance.

It was this last thought, and another ten minutes of walking to reflect, that made the rat realize how rash he was being. What was he doing, honestly? Trekking out into a raging storm to help someone who hadn't actually indicated they even needed any, had in fact barely spoken a word?

He stopped walking, rain pounding down on his head around the wholly ineffectual hood, suddenly unsure of his own reasoning. What would Machi think if he showed up on her doorstep in the dead of night, drenched, uninvited? Would she send him away? Certainly he wouldn't be able to blame her if she did…especially since she hadn't asked for anything.

But she'd called, he rationalized with himself. Machi was not the type of person who picked up the phone just for small talk, even less so considering the time. And it wasn't as if she was infallible; he thought back to their moment several weeks ago, the things she'd told him, the tears in her eyes. He'd known it already, of course, but the incident had pushed the point even further than everything else: Machi was entirely human, susceptible to vulnerabilities as much as anyone. And judging by the way she'd sounded…there _had_ to be a problem, or…or _something_.

Yuki resumed his pace. If nothing else, it would be good for his own peace of mind to know that the treasurer was alright without a doubt – even if that fact was confirmed by a door slamming in his face.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He wasn't _really_ coming.

Machi had repeated this to herself over and over since Yuki had disconnected on her, and only now was she starting to have a little faith in the words. It had been forty minutes, after all. Forty long, agonizing minutes during which every little noise had made her certain that someone was at the door, but forty minutes nonetheless. Surely he would have showed by now.

He wasn't coming. She said it to herself one last time, firmly, and then stood. The awful weather had slowly subsided to a drizzle within the last ten minutes or so; it was safe to return to bed, though she didn't know for how long. Falling asleep on the couch would have been impossible even if she'd wanted to, not only because of the storm but because of the anxiety of the wait. But now there was no reason to wait anymore.

The treasurer looked towards the front door. Despite herself, she felt a twinge of disappointment, but this was far outweighed by an overwhelming sense of relief; there was no way of telling what disasters she might have gotten herself into if he had showed. At last, the girl began to relax, just a bit. Perhaps now she'd actually be able to get some sleep…

But the sense of calm was short-lived; she'd barely taken two steps in the direction of her room when a series of light knocks stopped her cold. This time there was no mistaking the sound. Someone was at her door. Really, it could only be one person. Her breath hitched as her not-so-mysterious visitor kept it up.

She made her way over to the door mechanically, movements stiff, and reached for the doorknob – when abruptly, the knocking halted. Machi did too, the unexpected silence causing her to hesitate. What if she'd taken too long? What if he'd decided to leave? Maybe if she hurried…

The irrational thought came, and before she had time to question its validity the way she usually did, the brunette had thrown open the door. It banged against the adjacent wall of her apartment, and she was so freshly wired that she started at the noise. The figure standing just outside turned, cell phone pressed to his ear; Machi could faintly hear her Mogeta ringtone begin to play from the direction of the bedroom.

"Machi…!" He looked about as stunned as she felt, which comforted her somewhat; it appeared as though she wasn't the only clueless one, at least. But a moment later he slipped the phone into his pocket and smiled at her. And suddenly her tongue was tied. "I'm sorry, it's just good to see that you're alright. …_are_ you alright?"

His eyes grew a bit concerned, and he seemed to look at her more closely; it was all she could do to nod under his scrutiny. He eyed her critically for a few seconds more, then suddenly the confidence he'd evidently acquired went back the way it came. He sighed, but it wasn't in a way that spoke of exasperation towards her – rather, it was towards himself. And she was confused.

The older boy pressed a hand to his forehead and sighed again, appearing even more displeased with himself, and the treasurer was unable to think of any plausible reason for this bout of negativity. He cleared things up quickly enough. "Machi, I…I'm truly sorry. I shouldn't have burst in on you like this, I'm sure it must seem strange. After that phone call, I was worried for you, and I just needed to see for myself that you were unharmed. I…hope you can understand."

It clicked. He was looking at her, abashed, so entirely uncertain, because he was afraid – afraid that she was upset with him. She could feel her face growing red, and she couldn't help it; she looked away. This boy…how could he care so much about her, about what she thought of him…? What could possibly be so special about her to warrant this kind of reaction? Ignoring all of that that, though, another emotion was making itself more prominently known in a way that spread warmth – that special warmth – throughout her chest.

She was pleased. It pleased her, however shyly, that she held any importance with him, that he would travel all this way to confirm that she was safe – and against the weather, no less. It pleased her that he found her opinion of him so significant. But she didn't know what it meant. She couldn't even sort out her own strange feelings about him, let alone decipher his.

"…well, I'm very glad that you are alright. I suppose I shouldn't keep you any longer."

Startled, Machi turned her gaze back on him immediately, and found that she was staring at his retreating back. Why was he leaving so suddenly? She'd taken too long with a response. Her lips were moving before she had time to think.

"Kaichou-!" The title had come out more loudly than she'd planned, and a part of her instantly regretted calling out to him as such. She recognized how strange it was to be referring to him that way outside of the school, but she didn't know what _else_ to call him…

Regardless of the name's appropriateness, it did the trick; Yuki turned back towards her only steps away from the staircase, an inquisitive look on his face. He made his way over to where she stood again, his eyes never leaving hers, and the treasurer resisted the urge to move back backwards accordingly. Even when he stood before her once more, she was still unable to break eye contact. He sounded almost cautious when he spoke. "Machi…? What's the matter?"

"…it…might start raining again." The statement had taken far longer than necessary to muster, and her brows furrowed; finally she could look away, somewhere off to the side of him. She didn't know what she was thinking, saying this to him at all. "The weather report said the storm would be on and off the whole night, so it could come back anytime. They said it's…not very safe."

Her explanation, dropping to a lower volume with each successive word, finished off in a mumble, and her lips drew into a thin line once she was done. She could feel her cheeks coloring again. A long, drawn out moment passed, one where she had no idea what he was thinking; looking back up at him to gain some clue was most definitely out of the question.

And then, finally: "…would you prefer if I stayed for a while?" It was the right question, hesitantly asked but still too cheerful for her liking. Against her better judgment, she lifted her gaze carefully to chance a glance at his face, and found him giving her an odd sort of half smile, something curious hiding in his eyes beneath the hint of uncertainty and the flash of…something. Surprised, but pleased at the same time, if a little nervous as well.

Machi whipped her head away; it was exactly what she wanted, of course – but hearing it out of his mouth, with that look on his face…she floundered. Clenching her fists at her side, the girl snapped, "That's not what I said!" After another silent moment slipped by, she turned her back on him completely and spoke, in typical fashion the exact opposite of what she'd just told him. "B-but you…did say what I meant…"

"So you meant yes, then." It was more of a statement than a question, as if he'd known all along exactly what she'd meant, and the realization simply served to embarrass her further. She gave a jerk of her head all the same, using it in place of a verbal confirmation, and stiffly pulled the door open a little wider.

"…come in."

Her heart hammered as she stepped aside to let him pass, and still she couldn't look at him. She hadn't made any effort to maintain the slight semblance of cleanliness that he and her brother had wreaked upon her home weeks ago; the only exception was that she now took more care to make sure that any potentially hazardous messes weren't left unchecked. But now…now she almost wished that she had – not just for some kind of worry over what he would think, but also because she didn't want him to feel like all of his work had been for nothing, gone unappreciated.

There was nothing to do about it now, though. If she stayed silent on the matter, so perhaps would he. Yuki stepped inside, and Machi quietly moved to shut the door behind him, then stayed facing that way while she attempted to come up with a plan of action.

…_now what?_

How was that? I'm more confident in my Machi than I am in my Yuki, so I'm mostly worried about that…I figured that was a good place to cut it off though, before getting into anything beyond that. =) Let me know what you think! See you next time (WHICH WILL BE MUCH SOONER THIS TIME I PROMISE). Amy signing off!


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